Blood of Belmont
by Dark OriginVTX
Summary: Its name is Vampire Killer, sacred weapon of the line of Belmont. Throughout the centuries it has tasted the blood of many a monster wielded by clans of noble birth. Now, in a time of great need, this sacred weapon passes to one Hermione Granger. For she is the last of this ancient line and must thwart the final coming of Dracula. HP / Castlevania crossover. H/Hr pairing
1. Night Watch

_**Blood of Belmont**_

_**Book One**_

_**Legend of Two**_

By – Dark OriginVTX

_**Book One **_

_**Sacred Defender**_

Chapter One – Night Watch

The nineteenth of September was slowly drawing to a close as the young woman, flanked by a crowd of well wishers entered the chic but comfortable coffee shop. Today, as is the way of each day for someone in the world, today was a very special day. For you see this day was the day Miss Hermione Jean Granger left the innocent reins of her teenage years behind her and entered into the realms of adulthood.

Without such cryptic wording, today was Hermione's birthday. Already a woman grown Hermione bore the traits and wisdom of one far beyond her early years or social status. Her visage was simple, fetching without overwhelming beauty, a wealth of chestnut toned tresses cascaded down her frame to middling of her back.

A number of male patrons turned, eyed the collection of women as they ordered skinny lattes, cappuccino's or other caffeine rich beverages. Hermione, who stood at the centre of five or six friends, wore the trademark emblems of a birthday recipitent: Over large birthday badge, streams of coloured ribbon and sparkles upon her cheeks and alight in her hair.

Jests, words of congratulations and flirtatious gestures were received as the party stayed to listen to live poetry recitals and other entertainments. The night grew deeper, the party moved on as evening began to settle. Through the darkness eyes settled upon the wandering number of women, eyes consumed by shadows as Hermione unleashed a stream of mirth.

* * *

><p>Verona, an alternative social nightspot was one of Hermione's most favourite places to visit. Ever since she had been old enough to enter the club Hermione had loved the differing styles of music, the outlandish nature of the patrons and the affordable price of alcohol.<p>

The air of the club was filled with a slight layer of artificial fog which tickled the throat when breathed and offered a vague, surreal feel to the ambiance, all the while the haze shattered with jets of flashing laser lights and streams of wild colour.

Hermione danced, well and freely, amidst the mass of patrons and friends. Her night skirt fanned with every twist and turn, alluring enough to show glimpses of her shapely thighs, though gracious enough to allow the imagination a chance to question what lay beyond the fabric.

She seemed all but lost to her happiness and celebration, while amidst the crowd, observant, a pair of intense blue eyes settled on Hermione. The woman, waist length hair was the tone of soiled gold which enveloped her like a living shroud. The woman sat upon a single bar stool, absently sipping her bright red drink through a slight straw, while she watched Hermione from a distance.

Her eyes scanned the patrons, found who she was looking for: a young man with radiant green eyes and a wealth of unruly hair. Together this couple observed the antics of Hermione and her friends. The reasoning behind their observations known only to them.

"Is this the one?" so questioned a shaded male some time into the night, himself leaning close to the golden haired woman as if in flirtation. The woman took another sip of her drink, her number of drinks nursed, her senses still sober. Her eyes glinted as she turned to face the shadowed male.

"We believe so," the young woman replied though her lips scarcely moved as she spoke. "Tell Dumbledore to initiate phase one."

The figure drew back, enveloped in haze of the club as the woman took another long sip of her drink. Her gaze met that of her companion and they settled eyes upon Hermione once more.


	2. The Choosing

Chapter Two – The Choosing

Darkness settled over the city of London. Dusk became evening, evening became twilight and soon an inky blackness settled over the heavens, the night sky illuminated by the single, pearlescent moon.

Hermione Jean Granger staggered along the street of the southron suburb residence; her body alit with joy and drunken giddiness as she sung, very off key, the slurred lyrics to the song Happy Birthday.

The young woman was, very much, the equivalent of wrecked. She had consumed copious amounts of alcohol this evening, all at the encouragement of her friends. It was very rare for Hermione to find herself in such a sorry state of affairs. On usual evenings Hermione would limit herself to, perhaps, a bottle of red wine, consumed throughout an evening, or a very select number of spirits.

This passing night however, Hermione had allowed her self-control to slip. In her intoxicated state she was yet to understand if she had been so foolish because of peer pressure, or perhaps she just felt like getting drunk.

If it wasn't for her merry ways Hermione would have noticed the sudden drop in temperature which consumed the late summer season. The moon retreated, almost in fear as a veil of darkness obscured its rays. Hermione paid little heed to this strange phenomenon, believe the moon to have been consumed beyond a layer of cloud. This unusual situation, however, was highlighted when suddenly the globes of light which shone from a number of lampposts began to flicker and die.

Reactions slowed, owing to her intoxication, Hermione soon became concerned as, through the pitch blackness, she seemed to make out the silhouette of a tall, foreboding individual.

"Hello?" frightened now Hermione's voice quivered as she peered through the darkness. A slight shimmer issued from the dark shape a ghost light resonating from, what she believed, a wealth of facial hair.

Vapour suddenly began to form in the air where Hermione breathed. A terrible sense of evil, of a sickening torment and memories of a tortured past began to well up deep within Hermione's soul.

The figure seemed to vanish before her eyes where, with its departing, there came the hoarse resonance of innumerable death rattles. Withdrawing, suddenly sober, a terror beyond imagining suddenly gripped Hermione.

She wheeled.

They came as entities of the night. Ghostly, eerie figures whose breathe drew in deep gasps of something beyond oxygen. They came from both ends of the street. Horrid, terrible figures, each moving with a haunted grace, a glide as, together they advanced upon the frightened Hermione.

Through the darkness, themselves swathed in pitch black robes, Hermione could not place a number on how many figures slid towards her through the blackness of the night.

The monsters drew close, their movements almost mocking as Hermione pressed her body tight against the chill body of a vehicle. Never one to partake in any kind of self defence Hermione, seemingly instinctively, knew that no physical means would grant her safety from these creatures.

Her very soul began to sink, lost to a world of torment and agony. Hermione's eyes were suddenly blinded by memories, recollections of torment and abuse. Memories she had long thought purged from her self. The monsters drew nearer. Hermione prayed for help.

Help came.

Just as Hermione believed herself lost to the memories; before she succumbed to the darkness of her past, so a great, clear luminescence intense as a thousand candle flames, as soft as star light issued from her right hand. Strength, a vibrant energy beyond mere adrenalin suddenly filled her soul.

This new energy drew Hermione from the pit of oblivion, back to her own world, back to her own self and mind.

The figures which tormented her suddenly stalled, seemingly weary as Hermione, with renewed courage, drew herself to her full height. Glancing down at her right hand so Hermione observed the strangest sight she had ever seen.

Secured in her grip was the pommel of a sword, its design gothic, black steel, itself fashioned in the design of a crucifix. From this pommel there ran a length of barbed chain, itself as thick as a baby's fist. The length of chain gathered into a bundle at her feet where a steel mace completed the weapons extent.

With the sight of the weapon both confusion and courage collided within herself, bringing with them a sense of completion unfelt in any other situation. The hooded figures stalled at the presence of the light. It was only then that Hermione noticed that, before her, resonating from this length of steel so there issued a strange, otherworldly luminescence.

The figure of a shining silver otter encircled Hermione, trailing a stream of silver light from its form as the dark shapes advanced no further.

From the darkness, away from both the creatures and Hermione, so Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood observed the selection of Vampire Killer.

"I knew she was the one!" Luna breathed quietly as Harry nodded in acceptance.

"I owe you lunch," Harry smiled at his companion as, from a pommel at his side so he drew his own weapon: The sword of Gryffindor. "Should we help her?"

Luna chuckled darkly, offered her friend a sly wink of her intense blue eyes.

"Let see what she can do." Luna breathed before settling herself upon the bonnet of a vehicle to watch the encroaching duel.


	3. Enter the Death Eaters

Chapter Three – Enter the Death Eaters

The great chain whip Vampire Killer had chosen its rightful bearer: Hermione Jean Granger. Before her a hoard of dark, decrepit creatures drew away, the arcane magic fused within the body of the weapon offering its protection to Hermione. Before her, its form trailing streaks of stark, silver light, so the form of an Otter skipped and entwined the young woman.

Once, where fear had been paralyzing and smothering, so a renewed sense of courage flooded Hermione. She could feel the presence of another, a strong, fearsome voice issue within her mind.

Hermione's first belief was of fear for her sanity, but the weapon, which through means unknown to her, the voice resonated from the very depths of the steel forged whip. It spoke words of courage, of unity, of a power beyond anything Hermione had ever believed truthful.

She accepted.

A hollow glaze consumed the brown of Hermione's eyes. Around her the arcane Otter slowly dissipated itself entering the form of the whip so that it glowed ghostly silver. The creatures which surrounded her suddenly grew in guile at the loss of the patronus and lunged.

Hermione met them with steel.

Her body reacted without thought or fear, Hermione lost to instinct and the power of Vampire Killer. Ducking, shifting her body rolled under the grip of a soaring Dementor as, with her full erection, so she cracked the arcane weapon.

The patronus fused steel struck the hide of the monster that had attacked. It screamed, such a piercing, inhuman cry of agony that it trembled bone. A great gash had opened within the robes and back of the monster, exposing rotten flesh and a single, disgusting wound which seeped thin, watery blood. Hermione wheeled, whip in hand, ready for another attack.

Though her patronus was now infused with Vampire Killer the monsters were not un-thoughtful. Fear was not an emotion commonly attributed to a creature such as Dementors, but the sudden change and power they could feel resonating from this young woman gave them cause for alarm.

Consumed by darkness, ever watchful and observant, both Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood looked, as they watched the full force of the chosen one as the Dementors bore down upon Hermione.

A second Dementor lunged, scabbed hands reaching for Hermione's throat. Pivoting, her body, her movement, to swift for the monster. With a mighty flourish so Hermione brandished her weapon. Vampire Killer sprung forth, this time the great chain whip bound about the throat of the monster causing a strangled cry of pain to escape its void like mouth.

Together both Harry and Luna observed as they watched with every lash, strangulation or crush from Vampire Killer, so Hermione laid waste to the Dementors.

"I'm going in, I'm convinced!" Harry snapped his weapon in hand as he fully stood from his vantage point. Luna merely smiled.

"Go ahead, hero." Luna jested. With a look from her companion Harry called upon the arcane energy which was his to control. The sword of Gryffindor began to resonate a stark, silvery aura as, with a final look at Luna, who sat back and crossed her arms, so Harry Potter lunged into the fray.

Despite the power of Vampire Killer, her every attack, her use of power, the Dementors continued to attack. Hermione's will was growing weak now. Every breath of the Dementors seemed to suck away some essence of her power, of her courage and strength until she found herself struggling against the agonies of her past once more.

Weak, her legs willowing, Hermione struggled to stay strong. The Dementors now encircled her. As one they each drew in great gasps of her energy until her knees gave out and Hermione crashed to her hands and knees.

Vampire Killer disbursed with a shattering of silver light. Tears entered Hermione's eyes as she struggled against the most terrible moments of her life. The Dementors advanced.

All was lost for Hermione.

Just then, when the Dementor before her lowered its hood, so a brilliant, silver light consumed the darkness. A young man, swathed in black; though he moved with a human grace, rushed forth from the shadows. In his hand he carried a blazing silver sword.

The young man issued a full armed, weighted side slash with his weapon. From the blade so erupted a vast, ghostly form of a stag.

The Dementors physically screamed as, with the force of this unknown warriors power.

So the monsters were driven away, bat-like, defeated, back into the embrace of the night.

The young man slid on his knees beside Hermione, caring not for the tears the concrete walkway etched into his flesh. The young man before her gathered Hermione up into his arms as oblivion slowly began to claim her. Through dreary eyes Hermione looked up at her rescuer. He was handsome, beautiful in a way she had only believed existed in fairytales. His eyes were the most fetching of all, deep, bright, the tone of newly cut emeralds. He offered her the vaguest sight of a smile, a smile of which only enhancing his beauty further.

"Don't worry, your safe." The young man whispered to her. As she slipped into darkness so Hermione made out his final words. "_Luna! Gather the Death Eaters._"


End file.
